


Salt and Stone

by FairiesMasquerade



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1368808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairiesMasquerade/pseuds/FairiesMasquerade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Another camp, another group calling themselves a family, another set of open doors. She wondered how many knives were hidden in the shadows, waiting to stab them in the back." - Primarily a Carol story, set five years after the events of Season 4. Eventual Caryl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:**  I have to confess, I'm not entirely sure where this is going to take me. I can't promise anything. This is an idea that simply won't leave me alone, so I'm seeing if I can't work it out._

_**Disclaimer:**  I don't own any of the characters or plot lines from 'The Walking Dead'. Just this random idea of mine._

_**Spoilers:**  Canon up through 4x15 "Us". EXTREMELY AU after that. This story runs with the assumption that Tyreese, Carol and Judith do not meet up with everyone else at Terminus._

* * *

The sun was setting, the last rays of light dancing across the lake leaving long shadows in its wake. It reminded her of a line from a book she'd read once, longer ago than she really cared to remember.

Winter was coming. She could feel it in the air, the bitter chill in the wind that snapped at her cheeks and left her red and raw. She could see it in the frost that covered the plants, giving a silver glow to the last of the fall leaves that clung to their brittle, pale branches and in the thin sheen of ice that clung to the top of the lake like a thin skin. Here and there, the brown and rust red landscape was dotted with tiny splashes of color, the last wildflowers braving the slow drop into the cold of winter.

_Look at the flowers._

She never slept more than an hour or two a night anymore. Too many memories morphed into nightmares that jolted her screaming from the abyss of unsettled sleep and left her silent and trembling, curled into a ball in the darkest shadows of whatever shelter they found themselves in until the first fingers of dawn made their way to her.

_You feel it. It's a part of you now._

Her hair was longer now, unruly silver curls that whipped around her face and tumbled over her shoulders. She wondered how she looked; if the constant weariness and lack of sleep showed in lines across her face yet. It had been ages since she'd looked at herself in a mirror just to see herself. She should have avoided mirrors like the plague; instead, she'd embraced them, taking hours to stare into her own eyes and work on tamping down the anguish and despair that had been reflected there until nothing remained but the hard stare of the consummate survivor. Nothing that would let the random wanderers they'd stumbled across know that she could be hurt, that she was so full of grief that she wondered if she'd ever feel anything light again. To feel was to invite more pain, more death.

_The people who are living are haunted by the dead._

She'd learned how to be cold after all. Rick would be proud. She wondered if he was even still alive; if  _any_  of them were. She wasn't sure it really mattered anymore.

"Carol?"

_Mom?_

"Don't call me mom," she said, the words leaping out of her mouth before she could really think about it.  _Well, shit._

"I didn't-"

"I know." Carol Peletier sighed, shaking her head to rid herself of the maudlin thoughts of the past she could never seem to escape from as she turned to the child at her side. "I'm sorry. What is it, sweetie?" She reached out and ran a hand through the girl's windswept snarl of dark brown hair. Judith had the clear, kind eyes of her mother and the same dimpled smile, but in every other way she was the spitting image of her father. Or at least, as much as Carol could remember of Shane Walsh. The years had not been kind to her memories of the man.

"Do you think we'll be safe here?"

"Yeah, for now. It'll be nice to sleep in a real bed for a couple of nights, anyway. Won't it?" Carol turned to look down the hill at the smattering of wood planked cabins; a former vacation resort that now housed a small camp of people just trying to survive. Another camp, another group calling themselves a family, another set of open doors. She wondered how many knives were hidden in the shadows, waiting to stab them in the back.

_How many walkers have you killed? How many people? Why?_

So many. God, _so many_  people and all in the name of keeping them alive. Keeping Judith alive, if only so she could look back and say she'd managed to save one of her children. Just one. If she bothered to look back, truly look back across the years, the crimes committed for the people she'd loved in the name of survival, would there be anything left? Enough to leave a pillar of salt in remembrance of her sins? Or would there be only air, nothing left to mark the time and place she'd lived and suffered?

_That's your little girl._

"A bed sounds good," Judith sighed. Carol winced internally; she sounded so  _old._  So much older than a child of six should ever have a right to sound. It was worse now that it was just the two of them. She knew she was no fit company for a child anymore.

_If it were just us... Carl and Judith, me and you... I won't have you there._

"Carol?"

"Mmhmm?"

"I miss Ty."

_Tyreese. Lori. Glenn. Maggie. Hershel. Carl. Andrea. Dale. T-Dog. Rick._  The list of people Carol missed went on forever, their faces dancing around the edges of her memory, threatening to overwhelm her at the first sign of weakness. She rarely said their names, even in the secret places of what was left of her heart. She hadn't cried in months; not even when Tyreese had finally succumbed to the arms of death and left them alone at last. There were only a handful of faces that had the power to bring her to tears. She fought against their memories harder than any of the others, knowing instinctively that the thought of them would break her hard-fought, well practiced armor and leave her a crumbling ruin.  _Her girls. **Him**._

_Don't look. Don't look._

"I miss Ty too, sweetie."

"We're gonna be ok here, right?" Judith looked up at her with big eyes, full of cautious hope.  _How did it come to this? Just me with this sweet child?_

"What's our rule?"

"We stick together."

"That's right," Carol managed a halfhearted smile as she folder her arms around Judith, pulling the small girl back against her legs as they turned to watch the sunset together over the frozen water. "We stick together. I think we'll be ok if we can manage that. What do you think?"

"I think so," Judith said as she snuggled back into Carol.

_Stay safe._

She'd done what she could, but Carol had the feeling she was running out of lives. It didn't matter how many lives she wasted; she had to keep going. She had to be strong. Stone. For Judith. There wasn't anyone else left now.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** _ _The experiment continues. This really isn't much more than me working through some emotional stuff over here. Thank you for reading._

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"Will you tell me a story tonight?"

They were curled up together in the single bed they'd been allotted, Judith's head nestled in the crook of Carol's elbow. Carol let the ghost of a smile flit across her face, remembering when  _Judith_  could fit there, not just her head.

"Of course. Which one do you want to hear?" She was good at making up stories to entertain Judith. She'd had years of practice, huddled in bed with another child and telling tales to distract from the monster in the living room.

"I want to hear about home."

_Home. Pigs snorting and slurping around their makeshift pigpen. Rows of peas, stalks of corn waving in the summer wind. Handfuls of children scribbling crooked pictures on the outer walls of the cell blocks with thick hunks of chalk. A sweetly cheerful song echoing around the bars with the long afternoon shadows._

"Not tonight, sweetie," Carol sighed.

" _Please_ , Carol?" Judith actually batted her eyelashes, a newly discovered trick gleaned from watching one of the young women trying to flirt with a handsome boy at dinner. Judith had been fascinated, poking at Carol and asking what was wrong with the girl's eyes.

"Not tonight," Carol said again, her voice gentle but firm. She let her fingers tickle the little girl's stomach, earning a squeak of laughter. "How about the princess and the pirate?"

* * *

The days fell by as they managed to fall into a routine. Carol pitched in as she could, helping with odd jobs here and there, brushing off the questions from the camp's overly inquisitive members as they tried to get to know the stranger and the child they assumed was her daughter. She just smiled and bounced their own questions back to them, getting them to open up to her in a ways she'd mastered when she would show the rounds to the newbies at the prison in another life.  _Learn what you could while revealing as little about yourself as possible._  So she worked, speaking as little as possible but making herself useful, just like she always had. Knowing it was the only real currency she could offer in exchange for the rare promise of shelter.

The road had not been kind to them. They'd made their shelter wherever they could along the road north: houses being the easiest to secure, but fate had sometimes found them curled up along dusty booths of cracked vinyl in an old diner or even huddled behind the counter of a 7-11. Up in trees, under bushes, hiding in abandoned cars or trucks... anywhere they could. Judith had learned early not to complain, choosing instead to simply settle down and watch with weary eyes as Carol and, in the early days Tyreese, worked out where to go next. It never mattered to Carol where they went, as long as they kept moving. It was really the only goal they'd had. Like that fish from the movie...  _Just keep swimming._

Once in a while she could hear the voice of her daughter singing the songs in her head; distorted and faded with time, but still there. Still singing, somewhere in her head.

Sometimes she wondered if she had finally gone crazy, if this was all just a dream being lived in her head. What would life have to be like for her mind to decide  _this_  was the better alternative to live?

On the third day, they woke up to four inches of snow, stuck hard and fast to the cold ground and showing no signs of melting. Carol knew they would be stuck at the little camp throughout the winter now and went to Decker, the ring leader of this motley group of survivors, to ask to be put on the next run. She wasn't surprised when he shot her down, citing a dozen other reasons but knowing it was because she was a stranger, unfamiliar and therefore dangerous. It didn't sting like it used to. At least he'd agreed to make sure the list of supplies she had in mind would be scouted out.

"Tell me a story."

Carol brushed Judith's bang off her forehead and smiled down at the child in her lap.

"What shall it be tonight?"

"Tell me about home?" There really were only so many times she could refuse the little girl.

_Carl, tall and gangly in his oversized sheriff's hat, furtively sneaking peeks at his newest comic under the table while he pretended to eat. Michonne doing chin ups at the far end of the yard. But most of all, sitting next to her and licking his fingers after each bite of food, Dar... No. No._

Judith was gazing up at her with her sweet, clear eyes, her face scrubbed fresh from her bath. Carol had killed to protect that face; had made blood, hot and sticky, spill over her hands, made grown men scream, slashed her way through hundreds of walkers, all in the name of keeping this one child, her last child, alive. And suddenly, a memory sprang up, long forgotten in the wake of time: Maggie, sitting at the edge of an old prison bunk.  _He was determined not to lose anyone else, so we left on the motorcycle to look for baby supplies..._

Carol wasn't the only one who'd fought to keep Judith alive.

"Did I ever tell you how you got your nickname, Lil' Ass-Kicker?"

* * *

More snow came day after day, piling on top of the previous day's drifts until Carol found herself sinking to her knees in fine white powder. She'd simply grabbed a shovel and scooped out walkways with everyone else, leaving walls two to three feet high on either side. The silence between everyone was thick and heavy. The run group should have been back days ago, but there had been no sign of them.

"Carol, lookit!"

Judith was leap-frogging from one pile of snow to another, sending showers of snowflakes scattering into the wind in her wake. Carol found herself laughing despite herself, the stone walls she'd erected around herself over the years found weak in the face of such sweet, simple joy of a child playing in the snow. Her child. Carol kept laughing until as Judith threw herself onto a gentle slope of snow and spread her arms and legs, sweeping them back and forth.

It struck her like lightning as Judith jumped up, leaving the sloppy imprint of a snow angel behind her that reminded her of tattered angel wings stitched on weathered black leather, one of the names she'd forced into a tiny box and shoved into the back corners of her mind.  _Daryl._

_The soft purr of the motorcycle as they drove along empty road, the wind rushing past her ears and the ends of his hair tickling her nose. The sharp zing, the faint tint of iron in the air as he sharpened his knives while she finally stitched the knee in his threadbare pants. Walking slow along the fences on days when the walker population seemed almost nonexistent, so close together their shoulders bumped as they walked and she could feel the heat from his skin as the sun set in the distance. Daryl._

She knew Judith was calling out to her, pointing out the trucks in the distance, the mob of people rushing to greet those finally returned from the long run. She didn't see any of it, the world blending into a blob of colors smeared like a child's fingerpainting behind the tall, dark clothed figure who stood stock still in the middle of their makeshift road.  _I'm imagining things._

There was a large satchel bag tossed carelessly at his feet, but it was the crossbow, dropped careless atop the bag from limp fingers in surprise, that caught the barest glimpse of her attention.  _This isn't real._

It was the eyes, wide with shock, that shade of blue she'd never seen on anyone else, that anchored her as much as they set her adrift with surprise of her own. Eyes she never thought she'd see again, as if the mere thought of his name finally skittering through her mind had summoned him to her side.

"Carol?!" Judith was at her side now, nervous and tugging on the leg of her jeans. "Who is that man?"

_Oh my god. This is real._  Her voice found its way out of her throat.

" _Daryl_ ," Carol said. A thousand miles of life, of loss, grief, regret and the tiniest bit of joy was packed into that one word, his name leaping out of her as effortlessly as it ever had despite years of unuse.

" _Carol,_ " Daryl answered back.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** I regret nothing._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

" _Carol_."

She let the sound of her name in his rich tenor roll through her like warm honey, sending tingles down her spine to the tips of her toes and fingers. She could count on one hand the numbers of times she'd heard her name fall from his lips. She wasn't sure if he'd considered it a fearful curse or the most sacred of blessings. His face, so often more of an open book than he realized, would never let her in on those rare occasions when she heard him say her name.

"Carol!" The tugging at her leg grew more insistent. She saw Daryl's eye flick to the child at her side and his brow scrunch in confusion. Carol reached out a hand to pet Judith's messy curls. She had to  _think_ , not let herself freeze in the face of her own unexpected surprise. She can't fall apart, not now. Not ever.

"It's ok, Judith," she said softly, just loud enough for Daryl to hear, for his eyes to widen even further with shock. She understood, for as unexpected as the sight of her must be to Daryl and vice versa, Judith must be nearly inexplicable. It was almost enough to make her chuckle. Almost. "This is Daryl."

_This is Daryl._

Judith was quiet, face half tucked into her knee. Carol could hear the wheels turning in the girl's head as she pondered the stranger before them. She kept her hand running through Judith's hair, letting her think it out.

"Like the Daryl from the story?" Judith finally asked. "The one about home?"

A hundred different memories flashed before her in the space of a second. It was like something she'd read about, that last instant before you die and your life flashes before your eyes, except she didn't think she was dying yet and all of the memories had his face in them.

"It's the same Daryl," Carol replied. Judith looked up at her, her eyes alight with a childlike wonder Carol had never seen on her before. For the first time in longer than she could remember, Carol wanted to cry.

"It is?!" Judith back to Daryl, whose own eyes glistened with tears. He'd only ever cried once in front of Carol, after Merle. She wondered what he'd been through in the past five years, if his road had been as hard as their own. Judith took a tiny step forward, still clenching the fabric of Carol's jeans in one tiny fist.

"Are you real?" Judith asked quietly, her voice shaking with the weight of a thousand unspoken hopes and dreams on the edge of coming to life.  _Oh, my sweet girl. You still have hope after all. Thank god._

"Hey, Lil' Asskicker," Daryl said, sinking to his knees to give a watery smile as he very clearly fell apart in front of them. "I'm real."

Judith burst into tears and ran forward to fling her arms around Daryl's neck. Daryl buried his face in the girl's shoulder, his eyes flicking up to catch Carol's as she watched the two of them cry together in the snow.

It had been a long day, filled with awkward conversation and even more awkward silences between them as the hours slowly ticked by. She hadn't hugged Daryl, hadn't even touched him as she and Judith took him on a quick tour of the camp, making sure he was introduced to the right people who could help him get settled. She knew Daryl was confused, had caught him watching her from the corner of his eye.  _Just like old times._ She still wasn't half sure he was really here, or if this was some hallucinogenic nightmare brought on by the thought of him.

Judith had begged to let Daryl have the honor of tucking her into bed that night. Daryl had responded with only mild panic at the thought of being left alone with the child, but had gone with Carol's quiet murmurs that she would just be in the next room if he needed her. She could hear the low pitch of his voice echo quietly out the cracked door, down the short, dark hall to where she sat at the small card table that served as dinner table and cookery space in one. She couldn't make out the words, but gave herself the small pleasure of just listening to the sound of Daryls voice.

_Never really thought I'd hear it again._

Carol traced the dings and scratched that littered the table with one crooked finger, waiting for the water she had on the old gas stove to boil. She was too tired to think at this point, the lure of sleep pulling at her like a drug. She almost nodded off at the table until a click and the drag of a chair on the floor made her open her eyes; Daryl was settling into the chair across from her. He dragged a hand across his face, rubbing tiredly at his red eyes and she realized he was probably as tired as she was. It had been a hard day for all of them. She'd half hoped Daryl would just want to curl up on his pallet he'd tossed into the corner and sleep, but she had a feeling that wasn't his way anymore.

She wasn't sure what to say to him. It was incredibly obvious, even in her tired state, that he was having the same issue.

"I'm making tea," Carol finally offered, her voice sounding too raw and low out of her tight throat. She got to her feet and pulled the kettle off the stove, quickly pouring out two cups worth. "Sort of tea, anyway. Found a box of tea leaves in the cupboard, but they're more dust than leaves by now. Figured it was worth a shot."

The ghost of a smile flitted across Daryl's face for the briefest moment. She almost smiled back as she set the mug of "tea" in front of him.

"Still glass half full, huh?"

_So much for that._

"No," Carol said. "Not for a long time." She took a sip from her mug. The liquid inside was thick and chalky with bits of tea leaf dust and it burned her tongue. "Don't drink that."

"Got it," Daryl said. He pushed his cup away and linked his hands together on the table top.

"I think I'm going to sleep," she said quietly. She moved to push her chair back but stopped at Daryl's hand suddenly on her wrist. She jerked back from the unfamiliar sensation of touch on her skin and Daryl had the gall to look hurt. "It's been a hell of a day already. You really want to do this now?"

"Yeah" Daryl replied shortly. Carol sighed and sank back into her chair.

The quiet stretched between them, thick and bitter as burned tar. There was too much history here and too much unknown. Carol knew that if they got into it now, things could explode between them. She needed to tread carefully, needed to keep things calm so they didn't break, so she could put in motion the plan she'd silently been forming all day.  _It's the only way._

"Rick?" Carol finally asked. Daryl shook his head and she cursed to herself.

"Lost him," Daryl finally said. "After Terminus… It was so bad. Glenn died. Carl. Abraham."

"Who?"

Daryl let out a snort. "Army asshole. Forgot for a sec…"

"That I didn't know him," Carol finished. "It's ok."

"Got out. Rosita and Eugene decided to keep going east, to DC. Most o' the others went with 'em. I dunno… I just don' know," Daryl said limply. Carol could see how hard this was, the ache of dredging up a past he'd long since buried physically painful, his shoulders shaking with it. "Wandered with Rick and 'Chonne, crossed the border into Kentucky… an' one day we woke up and Rick was jus'  _gone_. Stuff was gone. Split during watch while we slept."

_So he finally snapped._

"You never found him?" Carol asked, despite her inner voice telling her not to. Daryl was shaking his head.

"Didn't look."

_Oh shit._

"'Chonne tried to get me to for a couple of days. Had it out an' she left, too. Trying to find him."

In a hundred years, she'd never pictured Daryl giving up like this. It tore at her soul to see the evidence of his utter despair laid out before her. It was a darkness she knew well.

"Why not go with her?" Carol asked, tracing the rim of her cup with her thumb.

"Me an' Rick…" Daryl started, then stopped, his face suddenly flush with anger. "We wasn't the same anymore, after the prison. Got tired of chasing his ass."

"What  _happened_?" Carol didn't understand, couldn't envisage anything that could drive a wedge between Daryl and Rick's friendship. If Merle's suicide run hadn't done it, nothing could have, so she thought.

"You," Daryl said simply.

 _Oh. Oh. OH._ They were suddenly on the precipice of something Carol was not prepared to discuss, something she hadn't considered as the day had worn on, something that could throw her carefully thought plan into disarray. He'd had years to say something to her, hadn't done it and now here they were, broken and shattered and he wanted to do  _this_  now.

"Daryl-"

"It's all right," she said. "It doesn't matter now."

"Yeah, it does. You gotta understand-"

"I do," Carol interrupted swiftly. "Daryl, I do understand. It's  _all right._  It was so long ago… and we were different people then..."

Daryl pulled back from the table, his body suddenly still as stone.

"He said you'd gone cold," Daryl said.

 _Cold_. It was a good word for her now. Cold as ice, capable of murder and a hundred other violent acts. He needed to know.  _Better sooner than later._

"I wasn't then," she said sadly. "I learned."

It was her turn for the words to come tumbling out. She was careful, leaving out the minor details and sticking to the major story as she told him about Mika, Lizzie, the years of travel on the road, making their way north, skipping over most the hell that had been Kansas City and only telling him about losing Tyreese. Watching him cautiously as she spoke, his face growing whiter with every word that passed her lips until she actually checked the floor to see if he was bleeding out somewhere. Once upon a time, she'd been able to read Daryl like her favorite book, knowing what was going on inside his head just from the quickest glance at his face. She couldn't read his face anymore, waiting for him to respond. She couldn't take it anymore.

"Don't." Carol pushed back her chair and leapt to her feet. "I don't need your sympathy, Daryl."

"That ain't what I'm-"

"You just needed to know," Carol said. "Now you know." Daryl was on his feet now too, facing off with the table between them.

"Why are you actin' like this?" Daryl asked.

" _This?!_ " She was mad now, rage boiling under her skin like hot fire. She surrendered to it, throwing her usual caution to the wind in the face of it. " _This_  is what kept me alive for six years, Daryl.  _This_  is what kept  _Judith_  alive. I became just what Rick accused me of being and I did it  _willingly_  for his child,  _Lori's_  child. Don't you look at me and pretend to see something I'm not anymore."

"You're still you," Daryl replied softly.

"Knock it off," Carol shot back. "You don't know me anymore."

"Yes, I do." His stubborn streak was going to be the death of her. "Seen it all day, every time you look at that little girl. Saw it this morning when I showed up. You're still in there." He kept looking at her with that same strange expression, his eyes full of emotion she couldn't place. It was driving her wild, making her careless.

"I'm a killer, Daryl."

"I don't believe that," he replied. "Not for one damn second."

"I am," she insisted. "I've done things-"

_How many walkers have you killed?_

"Maybe." Daryl acknowledged her sins with a faint nod of his head. It irritated her, that he could so carelessly brush aside the blood on her hands like it was nothing, like she wasn't the monster she knew herself to be. "We all did things. People died at your hand. Don't make you a killer, though. Ain't got that in ya. I  _know_  you."

_How many people?_

"The  _hell_ you know," Carol spit back. "You have no idea… the things I've done… Karen and David. I've shot people. We had a car in Alabama. I ran a man down with it. I ripped out another man's eyes with nothing but my fingers, Daryl. My  _fingers_ , red with his blood and bits of skin and eyeball under my fingernails and I stood there and watched while he clawed at his own face after." He was watching her, his head cocked to the side and eyes narrowed in ways she'd only ever seen him use when hunting before. Analyzing his prey before a kill.  _Do it. God, please, do it._

_Why?_

"Why?"

"What?"

"Tell me why."

"It doesn't matter." She stepped back as he stepped forward, running instinctively. She could feel it, infinitely small as it was but it was there; the tiniest crack in her wall. He'd found it and she knew he was trying to worm his fingers in there, make it bigger, make her  _break_.

"It matters to  _me_ ," Daryl insisted. "Tell me why."

" _It doesn't matter!_ " She was yelling now, not caring if she woke Judith or the whole damn camp up. Damn him, damn him to hell for doing this to her, making her feel like this. Damn herself for letting him to this to her after all this time. She would fight. She wouldn't let him break her.

"Ain't true," Daryl said. "It always matters."

" _Why do you even care?_ "

"I love you."

The world around her dissolved into nothing but white noise buzzing dully in her ears as she froze in place, any arguments she had dying in her throat before they could escape.

"What did you say?" Carol finally choked out.

"You heard me."  _Typical smart mouth Dixon._

Six years. Six years of morphing herself into someone strong… unfeeling… stone. She wanted to turn her back and run, get away from this place, this moment, from  _Daryl_ , who was breaking down everything she'd built to protect herself over the years in the space of an  _hour_. The tables had turned and now it was  _Daryl,_  standing where she'd been six years ago and she was helpless to stop herself _._  Three words were all it had taken to burst through the defences she thought were impenetrable and leave her raw and open in his wake. Carol felt the same fear she'd been feeling about Judith aim itself towards Daryl now. She knew she could destroy him, knew that her sins could come back tenfold to strike him down where he stood and the thought of it filled her with black terror.

_I can't do this._

"Don't." She was begging, pleading with everything she had left as the rest of her crumbled into dust before him. "You'll die."

"What?" She'd surprised him there, his eyes blown wide with it.  _How did he miss it?_

"Daryl," Carol said slowly, willing the threat of tears back into her body. "Everyone around me dies." He was still confused; she could see it in his face. She had to tell him, had to explain so he could go, run, as far and as fast as he could from her.

"I told you… I'm a killer. I kill people just by  _being_ , Daryl. Everyone around me dies and it's because of me. I  _am_  death. That's all I have to offer now. I've killed and killed and every time, no matter what I do, the very people I kill to protect die , you see?" Her voice was shaking right along with the tremors rocking her body; her hands curled into fists, trying and failing to steady herself. "You have to go. You have to get as far away from me as possible… and you have to take Judith with you, before I kill her, too."

He could take her and go and it would save them both. She would die,  _finally_ , alone but free with the knowledge that Judith would be safe. It was the closest she could get to returning Rick his daughter.

"Take Judith… or promise me you'll look after her and  _I'll_ be the one to go… Nobody else should die because of me. I can't do it again. I can't lose you, too."

There were no words to describe the expression on Daryl's face. It broke what was left of her heart.  _He sees it now. He has to._

"Ya got it wrong."

_Dammit._

"You  _can't_  kill me."

"Daryl," she moaned.  _Why won't you understand?_ Her back was flush against the wall now and Daryl was on her, one hand at her elbow, the other palming her cheek and tilting her head up until she met his anguished eyes. She could feel the agony, the grief and pain and years of too much torment but over all that, felt  _love_  and  _hope_  seeping off of him and mingling in what little air lay between them until they were both swimming in it and it was too much,  _toomuchtoomuchtoomuch_.

"You can't kill me," Daryl insisted, "because I was already dead. I  _was_ dead, all those years I wandered alone. Fuck's sake, I died the day Rick told me he left you."

_Nonono I can't do this again. It hurts. Please._

" _Don't_ ," Carol pleaded. Her eyes burned from holding back the onslaught of tears that threatened to fall, the last brick left of her crumbling wall of strength. She couldn't do this, couldn't be cold, couldn't be  _strong_ in the face of Daryl's renewed hope. He knew it, too; knew he was breaking her. He leaned down until their foreheads were touching, his nose nearly brushing hers.

"I was  _dead_ , Carol, an' now you're here… an' I'm  _alive_  again."

_Daryl. Oh God, Daryl._

She broke, her last reserve of strength dashed to pieces. She clung to Daryl, snatching fistfulls of his vest, legs giving out as she finally let herself cry. She never made it to the floor with Daryl's arms finding their way around her, lifting her, cradling her as if she were something  _rare_  and  _precious_.  _Beloved. Loved._ He was whispering in her ear as he settled on the ground with her in his lap, letting her soak his shirt with streams of salt and tears.

"Carol. M' right here, s'all right.  _Carol, my Carol_."


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N:_ ** _For Liddy._

* * *

**Chapter 4**

After four months, winter felt endless, with its cold winds and piles of pure white snow and ice as far as the eye could see. Every morning they carved out the walkways again, leaving snow drifts eight to ten feet tall on either side of the narrow paths. Georgian winters had shown Carol her fair share of snow, so she'd thought, but nothing could have prepared her for the cold, desolate, frozen landscape that greeted her each day.

It was easy to imagine that snow had covered the whole world, a new ice age to bury the ghosts of civilization under miles sleet and salt and ice; Mother Earth reclaiming her territory.

Carol sat on the rocky beach at the edge of the lake, staring out over the frozen water in the pale light of the pre-dawn day. They could easily walk across it if they so chose, but Carol wasn't sure she was willing to risk a sudden dip into the black, freezing waters beneath if the ice should fail. She wondered idly what would happen; if she'd freeze before she'd drown.  _Would it be quick?_

Four months ago, the idea of death, of the bliss of endless slumber, no more walkers or starving or worry or nightmares, seemed endlessly appealing. She still had her bad days, when the world seemed black and cold with the first blink of her eyes in the morning and the heavy burden of responsibility and loss weighed heavy on her shoulders and she stalked the camp silently, convinced of her own monstrosity. Those were the days Daryl stayed closest to her; a constant shadow, reaching out every once in a while to calm her nerves with a single touch of his fingertip on the back of her neck or along her arm or even, if she allowed it, a lingering brush across the knuckles of her hand. Touch, a simple reminder that she wasn't alone anymore.

The crack of a twig behind her brought Carol out of her maudlin thoughts, her lips twisting in a half smirk. She didn't even bother to look behind her as she spoke.

"That was loud for you."

"Didn' want to scare ya." Daryl sank to his knees next to her, larger than normal in the thick winter parka he'd found, a blue and green flannel scarf pulled tight around his neck. "Christ it's cold out here. How d'ya stand it?"

"I like it," Carol replied. "It's so peaceful."

They'd shared kisses, on her better days; mostly quick kisses that were soft and familiar enough to fool the casual observer into thinking they'd been kissing each other for years. Those were her favorites, moreso than the sweetly lingering kisses they sometimes shared at night, although those were precious to her too. They shared a bed and slept curled back to back, close enough that she could soak up the warmth from Daryl's skin, back to back so she could still breathe. The one time kissing has been close to becoming something more, when it had turned deep and passionate and full of longing, she'd panicked and had collapsed into tears, still too broken to entirely trust either of them with such intimacy.

He'd understood. Daryl always understood her, sometimes better than she understood herself.

_Oh, how the tables have turned._

"Jude's up," Daryl said. "Gettin' her layers on. She wants to build a snowman."

"Another one?" Carol chuckled. "We'll have an army of them if she keeps this up."

"Least they don' need feedin'."

" _You_  tell her that. She had me trying to water them so they'd grow bigger during the night."

"Ya didn' actually water 'em, did you?"

Carol snuck a glance at Daryl, biting her lower lip to keep from smiling. "Don't judge me," she warned. She lost the battle and let the smile loose at Daryl's shout of laughter, the sound bouncing around and filling up the emptiness around him.

"And you call  _me_  a sucker for that girl."

"Hey," Carol said mock defensively. "She never asks for  _anything_. If all she wants me to do for her is to help her water a snowman, I'm gonna water the damn snowman."

"Fair 'nough." Daryl held up his hands in surrender.

"There's already so much I can't give her…" She trailed off, her joy dipping in the face of the life Judith was being forced to live, in the memory of how much they'd lost.

"Hey." Daryl's hand was at her chin, gently tilting her face back to him. "You do the world for that child an' she  _knows_  it."

Some days, the days in between the good ones and the bad, she'd fight him on that, too many years of shoring up her own defenses and keeping herself detached snapping back automatically. Daryl was always patient with her, rarely snapping back himself but visibly keeping himself in check. For her, always for  _her_.

The wonder of it hit Carol with all the force of a sledgehammer and before she could overthink it, she leaned in and pressed her lips gently to Daryl's. She felt him freeze in surprise, just for a second, before he returned her kiss with equal gentleness. She let it stretch longer than she normally would have, a constant dance back and forth as she planted kiss after kiss on him before finally pulling back just far enough for them to open their eyes.

"Okay," Carol said simply.

"Okay," he replied with a small smile. Carol loved that smile on him. She'd never kissed him first before. She wanted to do it again but heard the call of her name ring out from behind them. They both turned to see Judith, bundled up in what looked like every piece of clothing she owned and wrapped in a tattered and faded pink blanket, the ends trailing behind her in the snow. Carol smiled and reach an arm out to the girl in invitation. Judith's grin matched the glow of the rising sun as she bounded forward and hurled herself into Carol's lap.

"What're we doing today?"

"I heard a rumor about a snowman," Carol replied archly. Judith hissed out a triumphant 'yes' and bumped her first in the air, ignoring the exaggerated roll of Daryl's eyes. Carol smiled and let her eyes sweep back over the lake, watching the sky shift to pinks and yellows as the sun started to rise over the horizon. Then she saw it; faint, still in the shrinking shadows down the length of the lakeshore, but  _there_  nonetheless. Carol nudged Judith and pointed.

"Do you see it?"

She watched Judith and Daryl both turn to look, scanning the area. She could tell when Daryl found it, his eyes ticking back to her with so much warmth and love she nearly melted on the spot. It was impossible to think that one person could give so much hope, so much push on her will to live. And yet...

_I was dead… an' now I'm alive again._

"I see it!" Judith exclaimed joyfully. "I see it, Carol!"

_Me too._

It was just a single stalk, but the vibrancy of  _real color_  was startling against the white blanket that covered everything. A simple, tiny splash of green, with a perfect bulb on the end of pale yellow.  _Hope_.

Spring was coming after all. Carol wrapped one arm tight around Judith, hugging the child to her. Judith wrapped both her arms around Carol's and snuggled in, turning to watch the sun finally crest over the horizon, bathing them all with its clear light. With her free hand, Carol reached out and threaded her fingers through Daryl's, pulling his hand to rest just over her heart. She felt him squeeze back and turned to see him, not watching the sunrise, but watching  _her_.

"Think today'll be a good day," Daryl said softly.

"It already is," Carol said.

* * *

_**A/N:** We've reached the end of my little experiment. I hope I have made you feel, managed to move you in some way, as I worked through some of my own issues with this. Thank you for reading._


	5. Fools In the Rain

_**A/N:**  Color me surprised, but this is what came to mind for the Nine Lives Caryl Fanfiction archive "Joy" challenge. Every time I think I'm done with a story, it reels me back in. Consider this an epilogue. I hope you enjoy._

_For my partner in crime, Peta2. Toes to the fire, M! And for Noxid Anamchara, my Yoda. Happy belated birthday, snickerdoodle. :)_

* * *

**Epilogue: Fools In The Rain**

Carol tried to remember the last time she'd just stood outside in the rain. The last time she'd let the warm summer rain splatter down and soak her hair, rivulets running down her neck to wet her back beneath her clothes. To just tilt her face up to the cloudy sky and let the wind sweep across her face.

She skirted the edge of the lake and walked between the old trees, their heavy, wet branches stretched above her head like a great leafy net that didn't hold enough water to keep her dry.  _How old had she been – ten? Twelve?_   _Too long._  She turned away from the lake and made her way further info the nest of trees, the rain beading off her coat and dripping down to the long grass. She wasn't sure how long she wandered but she took her time, drinking in the lush, vivid green of the trees right on the edge of turning gold with the approaching autumn.

It hit her with the downpour itself as she left the shelter of the trees, a heavy cascade of water that was only slightly colder than a shower would have been in the old days. It coated her body and turned the ground beneath her feet into a muddy blanket that sucked on her boots with loud squicks.

Carol raised her arms and spun in a slow circle.

_How many walkers have you killed?_

It wasn't enough. She bent over and slowly untied the laces of her knee high boots, loosening the strings until she could work her feet free. She pulled off her socks and flung them behind her. Her heels dug into the grass and she wiggled her toes, relishing in the cold mud squishing between the tiny digits.

It was enough to make her giggle in delight. The sweet smell the rain brought out in the world tickled at her nose and she breathed deep through her nose and out through her mouth. Each beat of her exhale was a stone falling off her shoulders.

It had only taken ten months for her pillar to break. Today she felt the last remnants finally crumbling away.

_How many people have you killed?_

She'd spent years teaching herself to be cold, to be a pillar of stone against the cruelty of the world, all for the sake of protecting a child.  _Lori and Rick's child_. The one child she'd been able to save.

She pulled at the collar of her jacket, letting the material slip down her arms until it fell in a heap at her feet.  _Like shedding an old skin._  She was soaked in seconds, the rain seeping through her layers of clothes, through her skin, all the way to her bones. She raised her face to the sky and closed her eyes to the rain washing down her face.  _Water cleanses._

"You know, they have this wonderful invention called a 'roof'. Meant to do all sortsa nifty things like keep rain off ya head."

Carol smiled,  _beamed_ , and opened her eyes to see Daryl casually leaning against the thick trunk of a knobbled pine, crossbow slung casually over one arm.

"Are you telling me you never hunted in the rain?"

"Pfttt." Daryl snorted and quirked an arched eyebrow at her, a smirk lingering around the edges of his mouth. "You kiddin' me?"

She laughed, the sound echoing around the small clearing and wiped halfheartedly at the water sluicing across her face.

"Where's Jude?"

"Hangin' with Megan," Daryl shrugged. "Tryin' to learn how to knit."

"Good."

She let her fingers drift to the buttons of her blue shirt, just toying with the small pieces of plastic. She saw his eyes follow her hands and linger at her breasts.

Ten months, and for the first time Carol wasn't afraid.

She flicked the buttons, one by one, and peeled the cloth from her body, leaving her standing in the pouring rain clad in just her jeans and a thin tank top, both well soaked through. She twirled on the balls of her feet, arms stretched out as she laughed.  _So this is what it is to be free._ Daryl was staring at her in complete bafflement.

"You've lost your mind," he deadpanned.

"No." Carol shook her head and reached up to remove the band that kept her hair tied back, letting the sopping mess of silver curls fall around her shoulders. She thought she might never stop smiling. "I found it."

She stretched out her hand, palm up, and wiggled her fingers in his direction.

_Why?_

All traces of humor fled Daryl's face. He was staring at her with that intently focused gaze, the same look he had when he was hunting. The same look he gave her when he thought she wasn't paying attention. She just waited, now still as a statue, letting the rain wash over her. She could almost hear the wheels turning in Daryl's head. She knew she wasn't making much sense… but she also knew Daryl would understand anyway. _He always does._

He finally pushed off the tree and made his way to her in slow, careful steps. Thunder rumbled overhead, making the ground shake beneath her feet, making her laugh with the joy that bubbles up inside of her and refuses to be contained.

Daryl stopped just past the reach of her hand, close enough that she could nearly feel the slick brush of wet leather on her fingertips. His eyes study every inch of her, from the top of her dripping head to her toes sunk into the mud. She wasn't sure what it was he was looking for, but when his eyes met hers, she knew he'd found it. He reached out and took the hand she'd offered, gently threading his fingers through hers.

Carol bent and carefully pulled the crossbow from his grasp. It was huge and heavy in her small hand and she let it slip to land in the mud with a heavy plop. Daryl didn't even flinch at the audacity, his eyes never leaving her face. Waiting on her.

She slid her hands beneath the heavy leather jacket and pushed until it fell in a heap beside her own discarded clothes. She took a step, coming into his space as her hands made their way up to tangle in his hair. Threads of grey were starting to make their way through the dark locks, time continuing its incessant march onwards regardless of anything and everything in its path.

_I was dead, Carol, an' now you're here… an' I'm alive again_ _._

"I love you," Carol said softly. It was the first time she'd said it. Daryl reached up to push her damp hair off her face and let a finger drift down the curve of her throat.

"'Bout damn time."

She grinned and leaned in to kiss him, licking away the taste of rain and salt from his lips. His hands skimmed down the sodden fabric that clung to her back, sneaking underneath the hem of her tank to find her warm, rain damped skin.

She wasn't afraid anymore.

He was nipping and pulling as her lips; soft, teasing kisses that had her chasing him, desperate for more. He lifted her suddenly and she wrapped her legs around his hips. She wound her arms around his neck, kissing him with everything she had and letting him take the full weight of her with his arms. She knew Daryl would never drop her.

Daryl pulled back from her suddenly, just far enough that she could see the elation dancing across his face and the broad, lovely smile he rarely wore. She realized she was laughing, they  _both_  were.  _We are two fools laughing in the rain._

"Dance with me?" she asked before she could think. "I want to dance in the rain with you." It was a silly, impetuous request; the idea of Daryl Dixon  _dancing_  enough to make her giggle even on the worst of days. She wanted to be silly.

"Later," Daryl said softly. He leaned in to claim her mouth again with a hunger she'd never seen. She surrendered to it, letting him take control. Let him kneel and then press her back into the rain soaked grass, mud seeping into her clothes and getting all over both of them as his nimble fingers pulled away the last bits of cloth covering them both and discovered parts of her she'd forgotten ever existed.

Carol stared up at the rain in awe as Daryl move to lap and suck at the tender skin of her neck, watching the light grey clouds swirling overhead, the sight blurred by the rain in her eyes.

Ten months and now she's alive again, too.


End file.
